


All The King's Horses

by moonflowers



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Horse Riding, Bad puns about 'riding', Charlie's a twat, Fluff, Harry is majestic, Horses, Humour, Idiots in Love, It ain't just the horses Eggsy wants to ride, JB is a horse, M/M, Roxy Is a Good Bro, Unsubtle Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy Unwin is currently riding at the stable yard belonging to Chester King, famous trainer and coach to the Olympic equestrian team themselves, affectionately dubbed ‘Kingsman.’ He knows he’s good enough to make it big time, no matter what some of the elitist twats he rides with think, but perhaps he just needs one more trick in his arsenal – such as private lessons from Kingsman himself, Harry Hart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of this literally yesterday, so hopefully it’s not awful.

"Oi, Unwin."

"What?" Eggsy called back, trying to keep hold of a fidgeting JB while he adjusted his stirrups - Roxy always told him he rode with them too short, and he didn't want to give her more excuses to pick holes in his performance than she already had. 

"Muck out my stable before you go, would you?"

"Fuck off Charlie," he peered around JB's head to glare at him, the horse sniffling at his hair and completely ruining the angry exterior he was trying to project. "I ain't your fucking skivvy."

"Oh _come on_ Eggy," Charlie looked at him imploringly as he opened the door of his spotless Land Rover, "just this once. Call it a favour."

"I muck out for you all the fucking time Charlie," Eggsy snapped the clasp of his riding hat shut, "that poor horse don't deserve your shit."

"But I'm meeting a girl at the club in..." he checked his disgustingly expensive watch, wincing when he saw the time, "fifteen minutes."

Eggsy shrugged. "You should've thought of that earlier you prick, ain't my fault you're shit with time."

"Oh fuck, just - " Charlie huffed and ran a hand through his hair, looking more desperate by the second. Served him right, the tosser. "Please, Eggsy?"

"Fine," Eggsy sighed and started to walk JB away from the stables down to the outdoor school, where Rox was probably already waiting for him, "since you asked so nice. But I swear to God if I do it one more time you're paying me you wanker."

To his surprise, he'd arrived at the sand school before Roxy, so he put the time to good use and got to warming up JB a little, throwing in plenty of circles and changes of direction to get him listening and keep him interested. He was on autopilot as he put his horse through the motions, which made him feel a little bit guilty, but Charlie being a prick always put him off his game, even though it was a pretty common occurrence. He was no better than Eggsy, he just had a bigger bank account and a longer family tree, but that didn't stop him acting like he was the sodding Queen of Sheba. The three of them - Eggsy, Charlie and Roxy - were among several young professionals trying to make it big time, riding at the fancy-arse yard belonging to Chester King, famous trainer and coach to the Equestrian team who'd taken home the gold at London 2012. Eggsy had the newspaper cutout from that day stuck on the wall in his bedroom - the four blokes that had been affectionately dubbed 'Kingsman' by the public, smiling and holding their medals on the winners' podium. That was what Eggsy wanted. Not necessarily the gold and the glory and the cheering crowd, but to know he'd made it, done right by himself. And he was fucking good enough, no matter what some of the elitist twats he rode alongside made of him. 

"Eggsy," Roxy called as she approached the school, "I'm so sorry I'm late, the work experience boy cornered me in the feed room." She rolled her eyes, still a bit pink in the face.

"Oh yeah?" Eggsy grinned and halted neatly in the centre of the school. "I thought you didn't like him. So how come you's blushing?"

Roxy cringed. "He's still in _school_ Eggsy, don't be ridiculous. As for the blushing, he's so abominable at flirting, it would embarrass anyone within a five mile radius unfortunate enough to witness it."

Eggsy snorted. "I hope you let him down gentle."

"Of course not. Shall we get to business?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just done warming up."

"Okay then," she shot him a smile and leant her elbows on the fence that surrounded the school, "show me what you've got."

"Right you are Rox," he tossed her a wink and a salute. 

"And remember what we said last time," she called, "too much pressure on the bit when you ask him to collect his stride and he gets stroppy and unresponsive, so keep your hands as light as you can get away with."

"Got it."

He eased JB smoothly into the practice dressage test he had memorised. The horse tended to drag his feet and stumble, in trot in particular. It was clear he wasn't as keen on dressage as the other disciplines, he got bored easily and it made him sloppy, so Eggsy had to work hard to keep him interested and focused. And alright, maybe JB wasn't cut out to be a dressage star, but Eggsy wanted him to be a good all-round eventer, and he needed to bring the standard of his flatwork up if he wanted a chance in hell. Rox was doing him a solid and observing his efforts to help him with his weak spots if she could - she was ace at everything, but dressage was where her passion lay. He'd done the same for her yesterday, not that there was much for her to improve on. She and Lancelot were fucking flawless. 

The routine was going well enough, JB in a surprisingly co-operative mood and picking his feet up properly, even through the collected gaits. Eggsy was just coming off a half pass when he happened to look up and across to the stables, where Chester himself was talking to a couple of blokes he didn't recognise. They looked pretty fucking dapper, even for the sort of toffs that frequented the top-of-the-line yard. He only had a moment to briefly wonder who they were, before JB started dicking about and he had to concentrate. 

"You were looking better today," Roxy said when they were done. "He even managed to listen to you for the most part, despite your legwork being all over the place," she rubbed the horse's ears affectionately, "didn't you JB?"

"Oi," Eggsy swatted at her pony tail, "my legwork was fucking perfect. Seriously Rox, how'd we do?"

"I meant it," Roxy said as JB nosed through her pockets in search of something to eat. Roxy was always packing a tube of mints and the horse knew it. "He really was a lot more willing to listen to you. And the transitions were a lot smoother."

"Well that's definitely a start," Eggsy reached down to give JB's neck a firm pat in thanks, swinging his feet out of the stirrups to stretch his legs. "Ta Rox, you're a babe."

"I'm happy to do it Eggsy," she smiled. "And I know."

"Who were those blokes talking to Chester?" He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"You saw them then?" Roxy's smile grew and she bit her lip with excitement. "You won't believe it. It was Harry Hart and Merlin."

"As in... as in Kingsman?" It was common knowledge they would drop in now and again to see Chester or to scout out new talent or whatever, but he'd never actually met any of them before, busy with their own yards and horses as they were. And yeah, they were meant to act professional when it came to such things, but it was hard not to get a little worked up when you crossed paths with your fucking _idols._

"Yep," she squeezed his knee. "And they were watching _you."_

"Oh." Eggsy wasn't sure if he should feel ecstatic or horrified. "Fuck me."

~

Thankfully, after a brief chat about how things were running along at the yard, Chester made his excuses and buggered of to make a phone call, leaving Harry and Merlin free to nose about the place at their leisure. There were quite a few new faces and horses alike since they'd last had the time to look in, and it was good to see the old place so busy. The yard had produced some of the finest riders the sport had seen in recent years, themselves included, and Harry was eager to see what Chester was currently working with. 

"It's good to see Chester's finally more relaxed about taking on ladies," Merlin remarked as they walked past a girl grooming a handsome black warmblood, "you know how funny he used to be about it."

"Yes," Harry nodded politely as the girl smiled at them before getting back to her task. "Although how it escaped his notice that women are just as capable of riding a horse as men for quite so long I've frankly no idea. Some of our top riders are women and always have been, but I don't think he'd acknowledge the fact even if Charlotte Dujardin slapped him across the face with her handful of medals."

Merlin snorted. "Quite. Do you reckon there's anyone in particular Chester wants us take a look at, while we're here? He wouldn't have asked us to look in if he didn't." 

"That great nephew of his, Hesketh, I imagine," Harry sighed. "Though I believe I've seen him compete before, and he didn't make much of an impression, sadly. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine."

"Mm, I've looked up a few of the young’uns he's got at the moment, and a fair few show some promise. There's a lass though, a Miss Morton, that I wouldn't mind seeing ride in person..." he trailed off when he noticed Harry's thoughts were elsewhere. "Harry I've seen that look on your face before, and it rarely means something good. What are you thinking?"

"You were saying that you've researched some of the riders - you don't happen to know who that boy was? The one we saw in the school," said Harry thoughtfully. "Only he was rather good..."

"No idea, I'm afraid," Merlin said. "But he did have good form, I grant you. Horse looked a bit of a bugger though."

"I prefer the term 'spirited,'" Harry said. "And I like a challenge."

Merlin stopped abruptly when he caught up with his friend's train of thought, and Harry was obliged to stop too lest he trip over him. "Harry, you aren't seriously considering mentoring some random bloke you've never heard of or even seen ride properly before, are you?"

"Don't look at me like that, Merlin," Harry tutted and adjusted his jacket. "That young man's got potential, you said so yourself."

"Oh come off it Harry," Merlin rolled his eyes, impatient. "You know Chester wants you to help coach Hesketh. He'll be mighty pissed off if you turn him away in favour of some boy we've never heard of."

"Hesketh has the patience of a five year old, and access to better horses than he knows what to do with," said Harry loftily. "I'll be of no use to him."

"Harry - "

"And he's riding at Chester's yard," Harry threw in in a last ditch attempt to convince his friend. "He must be bloody good to have even been under consideration for a place here, you know how high his standards are."

Merlin deflated, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Fine, do whatever you want, Hart, just like you always do. But don't come crying to me when it all goes tits up."

~

With Merlin appeased and Chester still absent, Harry was lingering about the tack room, hoping to cross paths with the boy, whoever he may be. He had no real excuse prepared if anyone should ask what he was doing there, but he was confident no one would - and he wasn't above playing the famous Olympic athlete card if needs must. He wasn't kept waiting long.

"Yeah, last fuckin' time I bring a riding crop into the bedroom, I tell ya," the boy paused in the doorway of the tack room to shout over his shoulder to someone across the yard who laughed uproariously. He snorted softly in return and shook his head, but stopped mid-laugh when he turned and caught sight of Harry.

"Err, hello."

"Good afternoon."

Harry had only seen the boy from afar earlier, and even then he'd been more focused on his horsemanship than his appearance, but _bloody hell,_ he was a vision. Light hair mussed from his riding helmet, eyes wide and lips parted with surprise, broad shouldered but slim, thighs thick with muscle under jodhpurs that looked practically painted on, smelling of sweat and horse and... alright, it probably wasn't the most subtle once-over he'd ever given somebody, but it couldn't be helped. Fortunately, it didn't seem the boy had noticed.

"Fuck, you're Harry Hart ain't you?"

At the sound of his voice, Harry was forcibly reminded of rainy Sunday afternoons watching My Fair Lady; hardly an unpleasant recollection. "Yes, as a matter of fact. And you are?"

"Oh shit, hang on," the boy hurried to swing the saddle in his arms up onto an empty rack before turning to shake Harry's hand, warm and rough and dirt under his fingernails. "I'm Eggsy - sorry, _Gary_ \- Unwin."

"Pleasure," Harry said after a handshake that lasted a moment too long to be proper.

"I can't believe it," said Eggsy, still beaming at him. "Harry fucking Hart. I saw you ride in twenty twelve y'know, got the day off work and stood right at the front when you bagged the fucking gold in the jumping. I mean, the team medal was great and all, but it was you I really wanted to see." He looked somewhat embarrassed about his adorable babbling, his cheeks pinked a little as he rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Sorry, I just... big fan."

"Thank you," Harry ducked his head graciously. "And no need to apologise dear boy, I'm honoured to have inspired you so."

Eggsy visibly relaxed, before continuing to sing his praises, this time concerning Harry's horse. "And Galahad," he let out a low whistle, "that horse is fucking flawless, mate."

"Far from it, I assure you," Harry thought on the big chestnut gelding, who was always eager to compete but sometimes had trouble remembering who was in charge. "Mr Pickle can be rather obstinate when it suits him."

"Wait, _Mr Pickle?"_

"Naturally," said Harry, refusing to feel a fool over the horse's admittedly rather silly nickname. "I always felt a bit of an arse calling him something so noble as Galahad while I was shoveling his shit. So Mr Pickle it is."

"Hmm," Eggsy narrowed his eyes, seemingly impressed, "figured someone as important as you would have somebody else do all the shit shoveling."

"No," Harry shook his head. "It doesn't do to let yourself get too self-important Eggsy, remember that. Be confident, yes, but don't swagger."

"Pride cometh before a fall, yeah?" Eggsy repeated one of the stock phrases Harry often rattled off in interviews.

"Precisely," Harry nodded, trying not to show how pleased he was that the boy had clearly paid close attention to his scant television appearances. "It's not gentlemanly, to say the least."

"But do gentlemen ride different to the rest of us, I wonder," Eggsy half-smiled, and gave Harry a very unsubtle once-over. _Oh._

Harry raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Not in my experience."

"Hm," Eggsy hummed and stalked closer, practically purring, a cat waiting to be stroked. "P'raps I'll have to find out for myself sometime."

Harry was about to murmur back something equally damning, before he came to his senses and remembered he was there to offer the boy help with his career, not to bend him over a saddle rack and have his way with him. Fuck. He stepped back carefully, trying to clear his head of the boy's charms, and though Eggsy looked surprised at his thinly veiled rejection, he didn't seem overly put out.

"Eggsy, I'm here to offer you an opportunity, as it were," he said briskly, trying to get himself back on track. "The chance for a little coaching from me, if you're amenable."

"What?" Eggsy was suddenly very much on the defensive, the speed of his turnaround staggering. "Are you taking the piss?"

"Not at all. I was watching you ride earlier, and while I admit that I would need to see more to get a full idea of your capabilities, I can't deny you've got potential, Eggsy. The Olympic selections aren't too far away, and while I can't promise you'll make the team, I don't see why you couldn't qualify for one of the disciplines individually, if you work hard." 

"But I..." the boy looked desperately wrong-footed by the turn the conversation had taken. "I can't."

"Why ever not?"

"Charlie's right, I'm just a pleb," he shrugged. Harry wasn't entirely sure who Charlie was, but immediately decided he disliked him. Elitism was rife within the sport, the last thing they needed was the next generation of riders encouraging it. "Why don't you pick him instead, or some other twat born with a silver spoon up their arse? I ain't worth your time."

"One can't ride a horse properly with a spoon up one's arse, Eggsy," said Harry smoothly, and pulled a card from his pocket to hand to him. "Here's my card. I want you to call me when you've made up your mind." Without looking back, he strode out of the tack room and went to find Merlin, feeling the boy's eyes on his back. "I look forward to hearing from you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know horses, but nowhere near to a professional level, so please tell me if something’s glaringly wrong. Also I’m fairly sure the selection process for the Olympics doesn’t work like that, but artistic licence and all.  
> I might do more sometime, this was fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this got longer.  
> I also edited the first chapter a fair bit, it's a little longer and slightly different. I don't think you'd need to re-read it for this next part to make sense, but it might read better that way.

"I'll go first," Roxy called across in warning, before she turned Lancelot neatly down the centre of the indoor school and over the line of trotting poles. He did it perfectly, of course. That morning, Eggsy had mentioned doing some grid work in the hopes of encouraging JB to pick up his feet better, and Roxy had said she'd join him. Moral support, she'd said, and the practice wouldn't hurt Lancelot either. Although despite his initial enthusiasm, Eggsy was finding it hard to concentrate. 

"Spot on, Rox," he said before taking his turn. JB knocked the first pole with his foot, but after that he seemed to get the message, and stepped carefully over the rest.

It was a week after he'd been given Harry Hart's business card, and Eggsy still hadn't had the balls to get in contact with the man. There were a couple of fairly sound reasons for this though, alright? First off, the bloke was drop dead fucking gorgeous. Eggsy seriously doubted his ability concentrate with the fit as fuck, multiple Olympic medal winning equestrian superstar watching his every move. He would've liked to say that his professionalism would have kept him above such things, but he wouldn’t bet on it. 

"How's he looking Rox?" He called to her as he turned a tight circle, "feels like he won't go on the bit proper today." As if to prove his point, JB mouthed at the bit and tossed his head around.

"I noticed," she said. "Just keep him concentrating, perhaps he'll settle in."

"Right you are."

And there was always the chance that that rich, smooth as cream and a little bit posh voice telling him what to do in the saddle would have him popping a stiffy of epic proportions, which probably wouldn't be much help either. _Come on,_ the man was unfairly good looking. He must have been pushing fifty, maybe more, but Jesus fucking Christ he wore it well. Tall, and fit as the job required, dapper as fuck... There was a kind of quiet confidence in every move he made, until you got him into the competition arena that was, when he became lethal and concise, his confidence anything but quiet. It was a fucking pleasure to watch, that was, and _boy_ had Eggsy done a lot of watching. A shitload of YouTube videos of Harry and the other Kingsmen in their younger years, alongside any televised competition he entered. And he'd seen a fair few in person, when he'd been able. The pair of them, Harry and Galahad - or Mr Pickle, as Eggsy now knew he was called at home - were even more impressive in person. Not that he'd swap JB for anything, but damn that horse was on the money. He was right out of the pages of some old myth, or Lord of the Rings or some shit. 

He watched as, once again, Roxy rode over the poles with precision, every stride perfect, each bunch and shift of muscle under Lancelot's glossy black coat calculated and contained, even the simplest movements a joy to watch.

"Rox, have you actually sold your soul to the devil?" he asked when she threw him a wink.

"Yes, and it was entirely worth it." 

The second, and more serious, reason for his dithering was that he'd made it this far on his own, more or less, and to attach his name to Harry's to boost his career felt like cheating somehow. Which was total bollocks. It was a legit career move for anyone in his profession - or any profession really, to train under someone at the top of their game - and coaching from him would no doubt improve his riding, career or not. And Harry Hart was fucking good, literally the best the country had to offer, Britain's finest, a fucking Kingsman, and Eggsy would be mad to say no. Yet he hadn't said yes either. He needed his head examined, Jesus. And he still hadn't told Rox about the offer. She'd be proper pissed when she found out he'd kept it from her and all, he'd be lucky if he made it out of that conversation with his body intact. But the thing was, she'd tell him to fuck everyone else and just say yes, and it was a decision he wanted to make himself, no matter how tempting that advice sounded. 

He was walking JB on a long rein, giving him a breather after keeping the trot work at a steady pace for the past half hour, letting him have a good stretch. But Eggsy must have missed something on JB's weird horse agenda, because for seemingly no reason at all, the horse put his ears back and lunged at Lancelot, trying to take a chunk out of him as Roxy rode past. 

"Fuck, JB," Eggsy hissed as he gathered up his reins, pushing JB on so Roxy's poor boy was out of his reach. "Sorry Rox," he called, with a dark look down at his grumpy horse, "I don't know what that was all about." 

"I do," came Charlie's voice from the seats around the school, and seriously what the fuck was he doing lurking around watching them ride without even telling them he was there? "It's because you and your horse are second rate and you don't deserve to be here. You want to know why you're here?" He curled his lip. "Positive discrimination."

"Fuck off Charlie," came Roxy's shout across the school before Eggsy had a chance to say anything.

"Mind your own business, Morton," Charlie drawled, "you're just as bad for humouring him."

"Oi mate, leave her out of it," Eggsy said, hot with anger, JB getting twitchy as he sensed the tension in his rider's body.

"Honestly Eggy, there's no need to get so defensive. I'm merely stating the facts."

"Well, piss off and state them somewhere else, yeah?" Eggsy was getting more agitated by the moment. He tried to let Charlie's weak and unoriginal insults slide right off him, but it wasn't easy when he seemed hell-bent on being even more of a knob than usual. 

"Not easy is it, hearing the truth," Charlie lounged across the seats like a cat. "Uncle Chester doesn't want you here. None of the others do either, with the exception of Roxanne, it seems. You're not even second rate Unwin, you're so far down the list, really scraping the bottom of the barrel."

"I swear down, Charlie, you say one more word - "

"You're here to fill up a quota, Unwin," Charlie said evenly, "a tick in a box for political correctness, to say that we give everyone a chance. You'll always be a statistic, nothing more."

 _Bollocks to it._

"You wanna hear the truth?" Eggsy said, riding JB up to the seats and halting, so he faced Charlie dead on. Mercifully, the horse didn't seem to be feeling argumentative any longer. "Alright then. If I'm so shite Charlie boy," he said, anger unbearable and ready to lash out any way he could, "then why has Harry Hart offered to coach me?" _Suck on that, you wanker._

"What?"

"What?!" Roxy rounded on him, and oh yeah. He'd said it to piss off Charlie more than to show off, and in his irritation it might have slipped his mind that Roxy didn't know either. 

"Hart's coaching you?!" Charlie sat up, all good humour gone, and his composure finally cracked. 

"As soon as I give him the nod, yeah," Eggsy said, turning up the smug another notch for Charlie's benefit. 

"But it's meant to be me," Charlie hissed, looking momentarily mortified that the childish whine had escaped his lips. He stood. "I'm talking to Chester about this. It's a fucking abomination."

He stomped off, leaving Eggsy feeling both triumphant and apprehensive. He had no choice but to actually say yes to Mr Hart now... fuck. 

~

Immediately following his outburst about Harry Hart's offer to Charlie, Roxy had dragged a promise from him that they would go and get coffee as soon as they were done at the yard, and he would tell her absolutely every minute detail, because _why the fuck didn't you tell me sooner, Unwin?_

"So,” she said, curled up in an armchair at the nearest Costa, not a hair out of place and somehow smelling of something light and floral, rather than like horse, as Eggsy was certain he did, “he asked you that day he and Merlin saw you riding, yes?"

"Yeah," Eggsy cradled his coffee between cold hands, "I was putting JB's tack away, and he was in the tack room." It was a relief of sorts, to be able to talk to his best friend about this openly now, after fretting over it alone for days. He was still undecided whether he should mention the less than subtle flirting from both sides though. It wasn’t as though she’d judge him for it, so much as worry over his professionalism – he’d never met someone with so strict a work ethic as Roxy. 

"What, like, waiting for you?"

Eggsy shrugged. "I dunno. Might have just been hanging around in there, for all I know."

Roxy raised an eyebrow over her chai latte, unconvinced. "Right, because people do that."

"Whatever, how am I meant to know what he was doing?" Eggsy sipped his coffee before setting it down to show Roxy the business card he had stuffed into his wallet. "I didn't tell you right away cos it's a big decision, you know?" He watched as Roxy ran her thumb over the raised lettering, feeling the odd urge to snatch it back. "But I s'pose I'll have to say yes now, after I told Charlie I already did."

"Wait," Roxy's head snapped up to stare at him in disbelief. "Gary Unwin, are you telling me you haven't actually said yes yet?"

"Err..."

"You didn't say yes the moment Harry Hart - _the_ Harry Hart - multiple Olympic medalist and Kingsman said he wanted to coach you?"

"I err," he shifted uncomfortably in the plush armchair of the coffee shop, "I s'pose not, no."

"Why the fuck not?!" Roxy practically screeched, a big deal for her - she was more the type to be quietly dangerous. 

"Oh fuck Rox, I don't know," Eggsy put his head in his hands, partly to hide from Roxy, and also from the concerned staring of the other customers. His own hang ups about it, and those that Charlie had pushed into his mind, were getting the better of him. "Because he's sex on a stick? Because I'm not worth his time? Because I'm two hundred and fifty thousand of the five hundred thousand hits on the YouTube compilation of his best moments?" He looked up in defeat, shooting a glare at the scandalised older lady muttering disapprovingly at him over her tea. "Fucking pick one."

"Eggsy," said Roxy softly, all her former ire at being left out of the loop gone in the face of his distress, "please don't let any of that shit Charlie comes out with get to you. You're better than he is and he knows it, it makes him nervous, and that's when he's particularly dickish. You can't let his sour grapes take this opportunity from you."

"Alright fine," Eggsy let her have that one, because fucked if he'd actually let Charlie ruin this for him, "but what about all the other stuff Rox?"

"What about it?" she handed him back the business card, Mr Hart's phone number neat and clear across the bottom. "Eggsy, if you don't do this, you'll be kicking yourself for the rest of your career."

"Shit. You're right." As ever. He was starting to wonder why he hadn't just cut his losses and come to her first, would've saved them all a lot of trouble.

"Obviously. So, give him a ring then."

"What? Right now?"

"No, next weekend," she rolled her eyes. "Of course right now you pillock, you've kept him waiting long enough. Besides,” her smile turned feral, “I want to hear how it goes."

"Fuck," he gulped as he slid his phone from his pocket. "Wish me luck." He was going to bloody need it. 

~

"Keep your eye on the ball, James!"

"It's not usually something you have a problem with!"

“And keep your grip steady!”

“Don’t shoot too soon!”

"Oh fuck off, the pair of you!" James shouted in the face of Harry and Merlin's heckling as he cantered past. It was something of a tradition for them to loudly question James' polo-playing abilities from the sidelines of his every game. Of course their friend gave as good as he got, and bellowed insults right back whenever he rode past, much to the scandalised looks of the other spectators. Or the ones who weren't familiar with them, at least. 

"Honestly you two," Percival reprimanded them lightly, though his mouth twitched with their every snide comment all the same before he could hide it behind a glass of Pimm’s.

They fell silent for a moment as the game drew to a close, both teams desperate to score the final point to break the currently tied score. Since their most recent Olympic success, James had shifted his focus from eventing back to polo. He'd grown up on it, and it suited his boisterous nature more than eventing ever had, despite how much he'd excelled in it. And, naturally, the rest of the Kingsmen made his business their business, and attended every match, whether he wanted them there or not.  
The opposing team just managed to scrape a win in the closing moments, a far more thrilling ending to the game than Harry had usually grown to expect. With the final chukka over, Percival gave them a knowing look and went off to stroke James' ego in the aftermath of his team's defeat, leaving Harry and Merlin alone. 

"So he hasn't gotten in touch with you then," said Merlin.

"No," said Harry curtly, not keen to let Merlin see just how much it niggled at him that Eggsy Unwin hadn't contacted him yet. It had been a week for goodness sake, and he was starting to feel ruffled. 

"I might have known," Merlin sipped his cup of Pimm’s, making a face at the slice of cucumber floating at the top. Merlin hated cucumber. "You've been low-key sulking since Wednesday."

"I have not," Harry insisted. He had. 

"I'm sorry Harry," and he did actually sound it, which was novel, "but maybe it's for the best, eh? If he's lacking commitment, it's better you know now than get into the thick of things and he bottle out later."

"I suppose."

Merlin was right of course, but he really had thought Eggsy was better than that. And as much as his friend might claim otherwise, Harry wasn't disappointed purely because the boy was rather easy on the eye, and had made it painfully obvious he found Harry similarly attractive. Though perhaps he flirted with everyone, how was he to know. That aside, Eggsy had shown real promise in the scant moments Harry had seen him ride. He was a breath of fresh air, different to all the other well connected and well-moneyed young riders out there, and he itched to get him into top shape any way he could. He had been so sure the boy would say yes, he hadn't spared a thought for what to do if he refused... 

As if by magic, his phone rang, buzzing from the depths of his pocket. When he pulled it out to glance at the screen, an unknown number glowed back up at him. He answered.

"Harry Hart," he kept his tone light and professional, as was his habit.

_"Hello? Mr Hart, it's Eggsy Unwin. You said to give you a ring sometime."_

"Eggsy!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin raise an eyebrow. "Delightful to hear from you." He meant it far more sincerely than he'd admit. 

_"Oh. That's good, I - Look, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. It was a big thing to think about, you know?"_

"I understand completely, my dear boy," Harry was unable to stop the grin forming on his face. Unfortunately, that was the moment Percival and a loudly complaining James chose to return to their company, arm in arm and the latter already deep into his consolation Pimm’s. 

"Hazza old boy, who the bloody fuck are you talking to when you should be consoling me in the face of my hideous defeat?" _Oh bloody hell._ Count on James to provide the dramatics at precisely the wrong moment. "Is it that boy you were waxing lyrical about?"

 _"Who's that?"_ Eggsy asked, amusement clear in his voice.

"Oh, no one of importance," Harry said, taking a vicious enjoyment in James' scandalised look. "If you'll excuse me for one moment?"

_"Sure."_

Harry covered the phone with his hand. "I have to take this," he said loftily in the face of his friends' knowing smiles. Pack of hyenas, the lot of them. "If you could kindly control yourselves for once." He turned and stalked off to a quiet corner of the field under a cluster of trees, removing his hand from where it covered the phone. 

"I do apologise Eggsy. My colleagues are idiots."

_"No worries bruv, I know the feeling."_

"Quite. So, what can I do for you?"

 _"Right, well I was wondering if your offer to ride you - I mean with you - fuck, was still open?"_ Harry distinctly heard a woman laughing in the background. _"Oh fuck off Rox - Sorry Mr Hart, slip of the tongue."_

Harry cleared his throat, collar suddenly feeling a little too tight. "Quite alright, Eggsy." And then, because it would probably be highly unprofessional to make it clear he was very much on board on both counts, he said, "I'd be honoured to coach you, of course. When would you like to begin?"

 _"As soon as you can fit me in - "_ good lord, was he doing it on purpose _" - me and JB have got a lot of work to do before we're up to scratch, you get me?"_

"One afternoon next week, perhaps?" Harry said, both reluctant and keen to end the conversation as quickly as possible for the sake of his sanity. "I’ll get in contact with further details, if that suits."

 _"Yeah, yeah, safe. Thanks Mr Hart. I - I'm really grateful, I just wanted you to know that. A lot of people wouldn't have bothered with me in the past, you know?"_ He sounded so sincere that for a moment Harry found himself lost for words. A rare occurrence indeed. 

"No need to thank me Eggsy, really. It's - I enjoy teaching," he said, which wasn’t necessarily true, but Eggsy didn't need to know that, "and you deserve the chance, just as much as anyone. Silver spoon or otherwise." 

_"I know, but just - thanks."_ There was a brief silence before Eggsy cleared his throat, voice suddenly brighter again. _"I'll see you next week then, Mr Hart."_

"Yes," he said, before impulsively adding, completely out of line with his usual resolve on maintaining professional distance, "and call me Harry, please."

 _"Right you are,"_ once again, the smile was obvious in Eggsy's voice, _"Harry."_

"Goodbye, Eggsy."

He hung up, blinking at the blank screen of his phone for a good few minutes before rational thought returned. Good grief, he was in trouble.

~

The day of their first session, Eggsy had groomed JB to within an inch of his life for the occasion. Not that he didn't always put the effort in - JB deserved no less of course - but today he'd gone the extra mile. It might have been a mistake though, the horse had all but fallen asleep under the firm strokes of the body brush and Eggsy faffing about with his mane. Roxy had, in true best friend fashion, laughed her arse off over Eggsy making himself and JB look pretty for Harry, though she'd eventually conceded that yes the man was actually kind of a big deal, and she'd be doing the same in the hopes of making a good impression if it were her. But that didn't stop her from pointing out that Eggsy had spent far too long worrying over his hair for someone who'd be wearing a riding hat in the near future. Eggsy threw his hoof pick at her. 

By the time Harry rocked up to Chester's yard, Eggsy had gone from nervous, to totally chill, back to stressed, and was now existing in a strange, Zen-like condition where everything felt like half a dream. Not ideal, really, considering his future career may well rest on the next half hour. It didn't help much that the first thought that crossed his mind upon seeing Mr Hart again was that he looked more smart than the last time they'd met, if that was possible, even his casual riding gear immaculate and tailored to within an inch of its life. After Eggsy was done staring, he found himself somewhat pleased that he and JB weren't the only ones who'd gotten fancied up for the occasion. 

"No need to overcomplicate things," Harry said as Eggsy swung himself up into the saddle, "seeing as it's only our first session. I'd like to get an idea of how you two work together, and then we can plan where to take it from there. So just a few simple movements will do, if you would."

"Alright," Eggsy nodded, not surprised by Harry giving them a free rein to do their thing, as it were, but that he seemed certain there would be another session. It took the pressure off a bit, anyways, and soothed Eggsy's maybe slightly irrational fear that Harry would change his mind and decide they weren't worth his time after all.

"I'll give you some feedback afterwards," Harry continued as Eggsy eased JB into a walk to start warming up, "and it'll give us the chance to get a feel for one another as well." Fucking hell, Eggsy would very much like to get a feel for him, now you mention it. "Given that you'll be something of a student of mine, that is," Harry added, as though he'd read Eggsy's mind, and purposely thrown a bucket a cold water over it.

Thankfully, despite his earlier concerns, Eggsy's professionalism took over the moment he'd started riding, and he executed basic movements without fault and without distraction. Harry seemed pleased, and asked if he might try something more complex. It was then, in his eagerness to please, that Eggsy mis-stepped slightly and used a little too much rein going into collected trot, making JB stamp his foot and jump around a bit, but he was quickly brought back into focus when Eggsy corrected himself. Thank fuck for the extra work he and Roxy had put into it recently.

"Thank you, Eggsy," Harry called out a while later as Eggsy halted JB squarely in the centre of the school, "that'll do for now."

"What's the verdict then?" Eggsy asked as he patted JB's neck and let him stretch out.

"Of course there's one or two things we'll need to work on," Harry began, and Eggsy couldn't help the funny little squirm of pleasure that came over him when he referred to them as 'we,' "collected movements, for example, although I can see you've already noted and started to improve upon it. But overall," he gave Eggsy a small, but genuine smile, "I'm rather glad I found you."

Eggsy just about managed to rein in the wide, joyous smile before it took over his whole face, taming it into something hopefully more sensible. "Thank you, Mr Hart."

"I told you, please, call me Harry."

"Harry, then," Eggsy corrected as he swung back down from JB's back, not looking, but feeling Harry's eyes on him all the same. When he did glance over to Harry, it was to see the man looking at his watch with distaste.

"I'm sorry to leave so abruptly," he said, when he met Eggsy's questioning look, "but I'm afraid I'm about to be terribly late for a meeting with a friend. I'd rather hoped to talk with you a little longer, but it can't be helped."

"No worries mate," Eggsy brushed off his apology, despite his own little wave of disappointment at the news, "go do what you have to do. Next week then, yeah?"

"Of course," Harry's look of displeasure gave way under Eggsy's assurances. "I'm interested to see firsthand how he jumps, if that's convenient?"

"Sure," Eggsy said, making ready to lead JB back to the stables, "spoiler alert, he jumps like a fucking champion." 

"And modest too," Harry said. "Until next time then."

"Yep," Eggsy said, casting one last smile over his shoulder as he moved off. "And just so you know, I'm pretty glad you found me too."

Alright, the once over he gave Harry as he walked away might not have been appropriate, but Eggsy had already made it pretty fucking obvious that he fancied him, so what was the point in trying to backpedal now? As long as he kept it profesh while they were working, there was no reason he couldn't flirt a little on the side. Harry was fair fucking game, and Eggsy was more than certain he knew how to handle himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes for this chapter included - "we get some lovely, tweedy, bro time doing something horsey. Also mild Percilot because I'm weak."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, Charlie ended up being waaay more of an antagonist than I thought. I planned for the two of them to be rivals, but sort of okay with each other, but things escalated. Sorry Charlie, ily.  
> Some background horse stuff for anyone who isn't familiar with it - a lot of the big competitions are made up of three events: dressage, cross country and showjumping. The scores from all three are added together to determine the overall winner, the lower the score, the better. There's more to it than that, but it's not really necessary for the fic and I don't have the knowledge to explain it much more in depth haa.

A couple of months down the line, and Eggsy had improved greatly under Harry's guidance. The boy had always been good, but he was fast approaching perfection, or as close as one could get in the unpredictable nature of the sport. And he'd been a joy to coach, for the most part, despite Harry not being particularly inclined to teach. They had, understandably, butted heads once or twice - like all riders, they had their own way of doing things, and neither liked to be told they should be doing it differently. But if anything that was even more promising; if Eggsy'd just rolled over and accepted everything Harry said as law without thinking for himself, then he probably wouldn't be as good as was. Harry was proud of him, and though he hadn't quite managed to say it out loud yet - anything he rehearsed in his head sounded far too soppy - he believed Eggsy knew it all the same.

The only problem, if it could really even be labelled as such, was the rapidly growing number of little almost moments that passed between the two of them. Nothing serious so far of course - Eggsy was a tremendous flirt, and Harry gave as good as he got - but the brief moments they spent together when Eggsy was out of the saddle were made up of purposefully lingering looks and less than subtle double entendres. He felt as though it had started as something of a game, a sort of one-upmanship, nothing serious. But when the coquettish glances and risqué words were paired alongside the commitment and determination Eggsy had in his work, and the respect and love he had for his horse, it suddenly didn't seem quite so amusing.  
Harry had never been quite so distracted by a pretty face before. Of course, while they were working, he managed to keep things professional and above board, but whenever Eggsy greeted him before a session with a genuine smile, pretty lips bitten pink, he felt things slip a little further out of his control. Whenever Eggsy swung himself up into the saddle, limbs still somewhat tense as he settled into position, Harry found himself wanting to run his hands up those lovely thighs, to rub the tightness away with his fingers. Whenever the boy sauntered off to put JB away, sweaty and pliant from the exercise, Harry wanted to gather him up, and do any number of unspeakable things. Yes, temptation was a cruel mistress, but one that Harry was rather good at denying, so he brushed it aside and carried on where he could. That wasn't to say he'd deny himself forever, but until Eggsy made a more explicit move, Harry was unwilling to take the first step and distract him from his work, not when he was so close to greatness. 

It was thanks to Harry's encouragement that Eggsy had finally decided to up his game, and compete in the Kentucky Horse Trials. He'd done a lot of the big events in the UK, most two or three times, as well as a fair few dotted around Europe, but he'd never tried Kentucky before. When Harry'd enquired as to why not, Eggsy had merely shrugged and said that something just always felt a bit off about it. But Harry had persuaded him in the end, which was why they were standing together in the orange sunshine of a late Kentucky summer, having a last run through of Eggsy's competition before day three of the event kicked off. 

"The competition is fierce, naturally," Harry said as he handed Eggsy his hat. "Sweden's got Princess Tilde in the running, 'Gazelle' has come out of nowhere and is showing real promise, and there's four from Richmond Valentine's yard riding for the USA. And Charlie, of course," Harry smiled wryly. They both knew that if Eggsy kept his wits about him, Charlie shouldn't be much of a problem.  
Thankfully, Roxy wasn't competing - she was giving Lancelot and herself a well-deserved rest after their second place at Badminton earlier that summer - but she was still there for moral support. Her recent success had made her something of the darling of the sport where the press was concerned, so it took some of the heat off Eggsy while she was present. Her being there had helped to relax Eggsy every step of the way, as she relayed various ridiculous rumours about the other riders during the flight over, threw him packets of Skittles if he looked a little gloomy, and stood discreetly at his side during interviews. And Harry was grateful for it, when he pushed the niggling grain of jealousy aside long enough to appreciate it. 

"Thanks Harry," Eggsy said sincerely, tugging his necktie straight with steady hands.

"Don't thank me," Harry said, "just go and do what you came here to do." _Show them all how wonderful you are._

"Nah I mean it," Eggsy said, "I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, so thanks." 

"You're welcome," Harry conceded defeat and accepted his gratitude, grasping his shoulder in lieu of a hug or handshake. "Good luck. Thought I don't expect you'll need it, after your performance so far."

"Course not." Eggsy winked and grinned as he sprung up into the saddle, Roxy holding the other stirrup to balance his weight, "it's the thought that counts though, innit?"

"Go on, be off with you," Harry patted JB's neck, the horse looking supremely unconcerned by it all, as per usual. 

"Go on lad," Merlin materialised from nowhere, as he was prone to do. "Make him proud," he added, and Harry shot him a dirty look.

"All I ask is that you beat Charlie," Roxy said, solemnly, and Eggsy laughed.

"See you on the other side then, yeah?" His face settled into one of concentration as he turned away from their little group to ride into the arena. 

It was only the showjumping left to complete now, and it played to Eggsy's strengths more than the previous two events. He'd gone clear in the first round, and was now pitted against four or five others in the jump-off. He was in a strong position, thanks to his cross country score the day before, which was just as good as expected, and his very successful dressage test on day one, the score of which was a personal best for the discipline. Harry'd managed to do some good there, no question. It might shut up those who believed Harry was only showing interest in Eggsy in order to get him into bed, anyway. That rumour seemed particularly unfair, considering how badly Harry wanted it, along with how far it was from the truth.  
As a rule, Harry wasn't one for nerves. Even now, there was only the slightest flutter of apprehension as he watched Eggsy whip his way around the course with a charming and lethal mix of bluster and precision. He went clear and in a good time, much to Harry's pride, and there was no more he could do but wait for the remaining riders to take their turns and determine the placings. 

"Bloody well done," Harry said as Eggsy dismounted, Roxy dutifully taking JB's reins and fussing over them both. 

Eggsy smiled briefly in return, but said nothing, his eyes flicking up to the scoreboard. There was only a handful of riders left to go, and though Eggsy was currently in first place, if one of them did exceptionally well, they could knock him off the top spot. Harry did the math, and watched the remaining competitors like a hawk. A fraction of a second, a slight miscalculation of distance or striding, could make all the difference. Though his eyes were on the riders, Harry was acutely aware of Eggsy standing next to him, breathing deliberately calm, the heat of his proximity making Harry's side tingle. 

The entire stadium watched the final rider in tense silence, the air heavy with anticipation as they kept their horse steady around the course, footfalls heavy on the sand, going for a clear round rather than speed. But it didn't work out like that. As they made for the final fence, the rider from the US had left a little too much distance and the horse rushed at it, lengthening it's strides too much and taking off too early, a back leg just clipping the pole and taking the fence down. The crowd let out a breath of sympathy, and Harry looked up to the scoreboard. The penalties earned by the rider's mistake would take them down to fourth place, meaning that... he quickly re-checked the scores in his head.  
Yes.  
Eggsy had fucking done it. 

The crowd caught up with his realisation as the US rider left the stadium, the scoreboard alight with the final result, and the commentator excitedly announcing Eggsy as the winner, 'Gazelle' claiming the silver, and one of Valentine's riders the bronze. Through the sudden buzz of cheering and congratulations coming at them from every direction, Harry could vaguely hear Merlin urging Eggsy to _‘get back up on the bloody horse are you waiting for a formal invitation Jesus Christ’_ for the prize giving and lap of honour. Genuinely delighted for him, Harry turned to offer his own sincere congratulations, but found himself speechless as Eggsy practically threw himself into Harry's arms, laughing like a dizzy child, breath hot on his neck and his arms so tight around Harry that he could barely breathe. After a moment of stunned inaction, Harry relaxed into a smile and brought his arms up around Eggsy's back in return, murmuring how proud he was in his ear, unsure if it was even loud enough for the boy to hear.

~

It wasn't until that evening in their hotel when it actually hit Eggsy that the celebratory hug he’d given Harry was caught on camera as his winning moment, and was of course broadcast over international TV and by now all over the internet. His win might even make the sport headlines at home, if it was a slow day elsewhere. He wasn't sure if he wanted his mum to see his moment of weakness or not, but no doubt she’d recorded it and was showing it to anyone who would listen. Eggsy himself was watching the clip for the hundredth time, the embarrassing but satisfying moment when he'd realised that _yes he'd fucking won it_ and flung himself at Harry in a moment of happy delirium. And alright, maybe he'd gone a little bit overboard - he had his legs wrapped around Harry's middle for fuck's sake, something that hadn't even registered at the time. He'd finally let go and backed up when he'd heard Harry say softly how proud he was of him, with a thousand things to say in return but only managing to grin like an idiot at the praise before Merlin and Roxy bundled him back up onto JB. That lap of honour was the best fucking feeling, one he never got bored of and could never properly describe, but one he planned to feel as many times as he could. 

As much as he was enjoying lying about the hotel room in the complimentary bathrobe basking in his victory and making the most of the minibar because why the fuck not, he should have known it couldn't have lasted forever. 

"Evening Unwin," the door to his room was opened so forcefully it banged against the wall, admitting a red faced, obviously pissed off, and quite possibly sloshed Charlie.

"You really should have knocked Charlie boy," Eggsy said blithely, not bothering to get up from the bed as he picked through a packet of fancy nuts that probably cost more than his weekly shop had, back in the old days, "I might’ve been doing anythin’."

Charlie sneered. "What, like rubbing one out over your geriatric coach?"

Eggsy blinked up at him in mild surprise, mouth slack. That was a bit much, even for Charlie. But then, he was probably still smarting because he took a turn too sharply in the cross country, causing him to fuck up the striding and come off. He hadn't placed well in the end, and he definitely wasn't above being a dick to Eggsy to make himself feel better. "What do you want, Charlie?" A fight, probably. 

"To wipe that bloody infuriating smile off your face for one thing," Charlie said, before belatedly noticing that Eggsy wasn't wearing much other than the fluffy white robe, tied loose around his waist as he lounged about. Well he hadn’t been expecting company, for fuck’s sake. Charlie wrinkled his nose, unimpressed. "Jesus Eggy, you're not wearing a lot."

"Well you fuckin' barged in here," Eggsy said, face heating up despite himself, patience wearing thin with Charlie's dramatics. "Up to me what I wear in my own fuckin' hotel room, innit?"

"I suppose."

"Seriously Charlie, either tell me what you want or fuck off. I got shit to do." He really didn't, but that was beside the point. 

"You know you're only doing so well because your highly influential coach wants to shag you. Mind you, after your score today, I wouldn't be surprised if he was already,” Charlie leered, pleased with himself. “Let him bend you over did you, just to get yourself in the medals?"

Okay, he must have been fucking drunk, because no way would sober Charlie, no matter how angry he was, come out with such idiotic bullshit. Either way, he was really starting to get on his tits. "We're not actually shagging Charlie, Jesus fucking Christ.” No matter how much Eggsy might like to be. "And how the fuck would that even make any difference, it don't matter how ‘influential’ he might be, that can't make my scores any better, or stop other people from fucking up." He raised his eyebrow, making it clear that yes, he was in fact referring to Charlie's own mishap. 

"Really fucking mature, Unwin."

“You fucking started it,” Eggsy retorted, inwardly wincing at how childish it sounded. "I'm serious Charlie, the only way I could possibly have cheated would be for everyone else to purposely throw the competition, which you know is impossible, or drugs, which me and JB both came back clear for. Even that wouldn't guarantee anything. So do us all a favour and shut the fuck up, yeah?" He glared up at him, breathing heavy after his rant, still not having moved from where he was sprawled across the bed, laptop at his elbow.

“How fucking dare you.”

“Charlie – “

“You waltz in from fuck knows where with your dreadful accent and your shitty horse – “

Now that was not fucking on. Why did the prick always have to drag JB into it? He hadn’t done nothing wrong. “Would you stop chatting shit about my horse for two seconds?”

Charlie ignored him “ – and flirt your way up the ladder until everyone’s utterly blind to what a worthless little pleb you actually are, bending over backwards for you to keep up the fashionable illusion that ‘people of all backgrounds are welcome.’” He shook his head. “Fucking outrageous.”

“Have you ever considered, Charlie,” Eggsy said slowly, keeping his voice low and even as his temper kicked up a notch, “that maybe you just ain’t all that good? All this whingin’ that I’ve stolen what’s rightfully yours or whatever, have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, you don’t fucking deserve it?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Charlie finally reached his limit, lunging at Eggsy and getting a good, solid slap in across his cheek. 

“Oh it is fucking on, bruv!” Eggsy pushed himself up off the bed, punch slightly off target as he hit Charlie across the chin rather than the nose, though to be honest he wasn’t all that fussed which part of the prick he hit. 

They scuffled about the room, cursing and pulling at each other, both sore and stiff from the past few days of hard riding, bumping into furniture and tripping over their own feet. Thinking back on it, it probably would have looked pretty pitiful, to an outsider.

“Maybe you should give up riding horses and ride Hart instead,” Charlie managed to choke out while Eggsy had him in a headlock, “then the rest of us wouldn’t have to put up with the two of you drooling all over each other in plain sight. He’s old enough to be your dad, it’s fucking disgusting.”

“What is your fucking problem?” Eggsy said, before doubling over as Charlie elbowed him in the ribs. 

"You two are aware that the door's open and the entire corridor can hear you shouting at - "

Harry came to a stop in the doorway, taking in the no doubt pathetic tableau before him – Eggsy half-dressed and eye purpling already, Charlie with a split lip and bleary with booze, paused mid-fight like two naughty children. Eggsy could practically see him drawing the wrong conclusion.

“Gentlemen,” he said quietly, stepping into the room, “need I remind you that you are professional sportsmen, representing your country overseas. This is the impression you choose to give people?” He gestured to the pair of them, voice hard and even, the perfect example of ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed.’ “Brawling in hotel rooms and bickering loudly enough that people in the next state can probably hear you? It’s disgraceful.”

“Sorry Harry,” Eggsy murmured, feeling about an inch high, glancing guiltily down at the ugly carpet. “Just… emotional day, yeah?”

“I’m sure,” Harry nodded, appeased by Eggsy’s obvious discomfort, “just try to act with more decorum in future.”

“Alright.” Eggsy glanced over at Charlie, who was still silently fuming, the dribble of blood from his split lip really fucking satisfying. He couldn’t quite bring himself to apologise yet; he wouldn’t have meant it anyways.

“Perhaps you should go back to your own room for now, Mr Hesketh,” Harry said, “and not back to the bar.”

Charlie didn't even bother to answer, just rolled his eyes as he shouldered his way unsteadily past Harry and into the hall. Fuck, he must have been drunk to be so openly disrespectful of Harry - he might not like him much, but he was a pretty big deal, something of a figurehead in their sport, and even Charlie wasn't stupid enough to be so obvious in his dislike. 

"I didn’t interrupt anything, I hope?" Harry said lightly when he was gone, polite to a fault even though Eggsy could see his fist clenching at his side.

“Fuck no,” said Eggsy firmly, “nothing like that.” Harry's gaze snapped up to his face from where it had been resting somewhere around his thigh. Oh shit, the robe. He righted it from where it had slipped down over his shoulder, baring most of his chest, making sure to tighten the belt. "He's just a bad loser who's had a few too many, yeah?"

"Of course. No need to explain, dear boy," Harry said, though his smile was a little strained as he waved him off. "I'm sorry to say I've been in the same position as Charlie myself a time or two, though I doubt I would have resorted to violence,” his tongue curled around the word in distaste. “I'm not a particularly good loser either.”

He smiled properly then, loose and easy, dressed down for the evening in a partially unbuttoned shirt and still fairly smart trousers, and Eggsy wanted nothing more than to pop the rest of the buttons and crawl inside there with him, press his nose into the side of Harry’s neck and breathe him in, maybe slide his hand down over his arse for good measure. But obviously he couldn’t say that out loud, or actually do it, so he just sort of stared with a silly smile on his face, and no idea what to do about it. 

“If you're sure everything's alright - " Harry broke the silence.

"It is," Eggsy insisted, quickly.

"I'll say goodnight, then."

"Yeah…” said Eggsy, at a loss for anything he could say to keep him there just a moment longer. “Goodnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kentucky Horse Trials are an actual thing that I couldn't resist including, but they take place in September, so just pretend it's still 2015 okay.  
> I've written most of the last chapter but I'm not really sure I like it, so if there's anything in particular you want to see, now is the time to shout it at me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so determined for this fic to stay T rated, but woops my hand slipped.

After Eggsy's success in Kentucky, Harry had announced that he and JB were very much entitled to a little time off. So, at Harry's invitation, they boxed up JB and drove him over to his yard. It was smaller than King's place, but just as low-key fancy and painstakingly well maintained, the stable doors all painted a smart navy blue, not a wisp of stray hay to be seen, and little tubs of pink flowers spaced at exact intervals along the paths. Fucking _flowers._ Eggsy had freely taken the piss about that. Harry only shrugged and said they brightened up the place, and Eggsy had no idea whether he was joking or not. He gave Eggsy a brief tour, introducing him to any riders or members of staff they crossed paths with, as well as the horses, who were looking with interest over the tops of their stable doors.

"And this is Galahad," Harry stopped outside a stable containing an immense chestnut gelding, spotlessly clean and already nosing at Harry's jacket, searching for something to eat.

"Mr Pickle?" Eggsy said with a smile and raised eyebrow. 

"Mr Pickle," Harry agreed, and guiltily fished a packet of extra strong mints out of his pocket. "He's… perhaps a little spoilt."

"Well, he deserves it," Eggsy said, reaching out to let the horse sniff his hand and say hello, "he's got some pretty big wins under his belt, haven't you boy?" He looked up to see Harry smiling fondly at the pair of them, and for a moment could do nothing more than smile stupidly back, before Harry cleared his throat and slid back the bolts on the stable door to let himself in.

"Did you know Galahad and Miss Morton's horse are related?"

"No," said Eggsy, surprised, "she kept that one quiet."

"Yes," said Harry briskly, swinging the saddle up onto Galahad's back. "They were both sired by an ex-racehorse belonging to the Queen."

"No shit,” Eggsy’s eyes drifted down to Harry’s arse while his back was turned. What? He was only human, and jodhpurs were a fucking _gift_ if you wanted to sneak an eyeful of someone’s arse. “Just when I thought you lot couldn't get any more posh."

The plan was to go for a hack around the lanes and fields of the countryside surrounding Harry's yard. Eggsy felt like a kid on a school trip as they rode away from the stables and out under the trees, and honestly, he’d forgotten how good it was just to take a break sometimes. He squirmed in the saddle, twisting about to get a good look at the flat green and leafy hollows, already overwarm in the afternoon sun. JB picked up on his excitement and grew fidgety, equally happy about the change of scene, tossing his head and breaking into a few strides of a giddy trot, glad for the sun on his back. He stretched across to nip playfully at Galahad, who dutifully ignored him.

Harry laughed, relaxed but still perfectly positioned in the saddle, more at ease than Eggsy had ever seen him. There was something about seeing him on horseback that made him look complete – not in the lethal, cohesive way that he and Galahad were in competition, but something more natural, softer perhaps. And to see him riding in such close proximity, in so personal a setting, was something his past self never would have thought possible. “Somebody’s certainly glad to be out and about,” Harry said, nodding to JB as the horse skittered sideways for no apparent reason at all. “Don’t worry, we’ll give them a good run in a minute. Let them blow off a little steam.” 

Harry was as good as his word, and when the sun dappled lane they were making their way along widened out and opened into a field, he turned to Eggsy, eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Ready?” Galahad had sensed what was coming, eagerly mouthing at the bit, muscles tightly bunched and neck arched, ready to spring the moment Harry asked it of him.

“Born ready, old man,” Eggsy flashed a grin at him, “I – oh bollocks!” JB had clearly had enough of waiting, and bounded off before Eggsy could gather his wits or his reins, galloping across the length of the field, kicking his heels up in excitement. “JB you little shit,” he muttered as he shortened up his reins and regained his balance, along with some semblance of control, “makin’ me look a dick in front of Harry. You could learn some sodding manners off of Galahad, that’s for sure.” 

But then he heard Harry laughing again, bright and bold, as he urged Galahad faster to catch up. Eggsy didn’t feel quite so stupid then. He risked a quick glance to the side to see Harry riding with flawless form, back straight, light in his stirrups to give Galahad more freedom to move, the perfect blend of discipline and relaxation. Fuck, he looked good. They both did – man and horse strong and noble, a knight and his charger right out of the story books he read his little sister. Eggsy wasn’t sure if he’d rather be a rival knight and face Harry on the field, or a fair maiden, who got to swoon in his arms afterwards. Maybe a little bit of both. Thoughts of epic romance were pushed from his head as Harry began to slow, easing Galahad back into an easy canter, coming to a stop under a tree in the field’s centre. Eggsy followed suit, reining JB in, feeling the horse’s happiness at being able to properly stretch his legs after their months of nothing but training and precision. 

“I rather think I won, don’t you?” Harry said with a lopsided smile.

“What? That’s not fair, I didn’t even know we was racing,” Eggsy said, indignant, though he couldn’t stop himself smiling all the same. 

“That makes no difference,” Harry let the reins slip through his fingers, Galahad gratefully shaking his head and snorting happily. 

“Whatever,” Eggsy swung his feet from the stirrups to stretch his own legs, his calves a little sore, “I’ll get you next time.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, letting the horses catch their breath under the shade of the tree. The sun was starting to get lower, all orange and slanting shadows, the air finally cooling to a more acceptable temperature. The dry sweat on the back of Eggsy’s neck began to prickle, a pleasant ache settling over his body after an afternoon in the saddle. He hadn’t ridden just for fun in a while, so determined to make the best of himself and win all he could, that he’d sort of forgotten it was meant to be fun. And then there was Harry. Harry who, from day one, Eggsy had wanted between his legs, despite looking up to him as a sort of mentor, and wasn’t that just messed up. Harry who, Eggsy was starting to realise, he now felt more for than a filthy mix of lust and hero worship, after months of working hard together to shape Eggsy into the best he could be, and was rapidly feeling like something more serious altogether. 

"Everyone thinks we're shagging, you know,” he blurted. _What the fuck, Eggsy._ Way to ruin the moment.

To Harry’s credit, he barely batted an eyelid in the face of Eggsy’s runaway mouth. "It would seem so."

"Charlie reckons you're fixing competitions so I can win," he said, because _yes Eggsy make it worse,_ fucking brilliant, “it’s what we were arguing about in Kentucky.” He still felt some weird need to justify that, to excuse his behaviour, unable to forget the look of disappointment on Harry’s face when he’d stumbled across Eggsy and Charlie scrapping in the hotel room like naughty puppies. 

Harry snorted. "My dear boy, not even I'm that influential." Eggsy eventually looked up and away from the grass beneath them to see Harry watching him fondly. “Come now,” he said abruptly, gathering up Galahad and turning away, “we’d best be getting back.”

“Harry – “ Eggsy started, but it was already too late. Harry was cantering back up the length of the field, leaving Eggsy floundering to follow and wondering if Harry was really so unruffled by it all as he looked. 

~

As soon as Roxy had heard that he and Harry had been out for a ride together, she coerced Eggsy back into the coffee shop for all the details. Not that he took a lot of coercing – she was buying, after all. With that in mind, he got the biggest, most ridiculous coffee he could, and revelled in every unimpressed look she sent his way across the table. 

“It was like a fucking fairy-tale Rox, what do you think,” he said when she asked him how it went, “complete with sodding Prince Charming himself.”

“Hm,” Roxy cradled her far more conservative drink. “I’m starting to think that he’s too much of a gentleman to presume and make the first move,” she said, having long since guessed at the fuck-off massive torch Eggsy was carrying for Harry, making her one of the few people he could whinge to about his lack of access to Harry’s pants. “You’re going to have to do it.” 

Eggsy snorted and scooped a spoonful of whipped cream off the top of his drink. “There’d be no ‘presuming’ about it Rox, I don’t think I could be more obvious if I tried.”

“Oh I very much doubt that,” Roxy drawled.

He would have flicked cream at her, if she wasn’t right on the fucking money. “Fine, but what do I do about it though?” He fiddled with a sugar packet, frustrated. “The press all think I’m shagging you, and everyone else I know thinks I’m shagging Harry, when in actual fact I’m shagging no one. It’s not fucking fair.”

“In our defence, I’m fairly certain you could be shagging Harry, if you asked him,” said Roxy evenly.

“Ugh, bollocks to it,” Eggsy scrubbed at his face, feeling more than a little bit off and wishing he’d picked something less stupid to drink. 

“Sorry to intrude,” Eggsy snapped his attention up to over Roxy’s shoulder, body instantly tense at the sound of Charlie’s voice, where he’d appeared at their table, “but do you have a moment?”

Eggsy was sorely tempted to tell him to jog on, but he was feeling so down in the mouth, he really didn’t have the energy to lay into him. “Depends,” he said, noticing Roxy tense up as well, on the defensive in her subtle, well-bred way, “what d’you want? I really can’t be fucked to fight today Charlie.” 

“No, it’s not that, I – “ Charlie looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Eggsy might have enjoyed it if he wasn’t too busy worrying about what was going to come out of his mouth next. “I just wanted to... apologise. Mostly for what I said to you in Kentucky, but I suppose for before that as well.”

“…You’re apologising? To me?” Fuck. The phrase ‘when hell freezes over’ came to mind.

“Yes,” Charlie rolled his eyes, face a little pink, “don’t make me repeat it Unwin, for God’s sake. I know we’ve never got on well – “

“Fucking understatement, mate.”

“ – but I said a few things that I wish I hadn’t that night. I’d had a drink or two and… well, you know the rest. Look Eggy, I don’t expect to be friends,” his mouth curled around the word with distaste, “but it is rather an effort to be fighting you all the time, and frankly, it’s starting to become a bit of a bore. So…” he trailed off, extending a hand out to him hesitantly, like someone had told him to stick it in a bucket of shit. 

Eggsy blinked at Charlie’s outstretched hand, not sure what to make of the entire situation. He glanced across at Roxy who was watching them with a bemused expression, and as raptly as if it were the cliff-hanger at the end of an episode of Eastenders. Well then. Fucked if he was going to let Charlie-bloody-Hesketh outdo him in the decency department. He took his hand.

“Right, well then,” said Charlie briskly, dropping Eggsy’s hand as soon as was acceptable, “that’s that.” 

“Yeah,” said Eggsy, dazed and a bit thrown by it all, still not quite sure what the fuck had just happened. “See you later, yeah?”

“Regrettably,” he smiled, but with none – or at least very little – of his usual superior attitude. “Unwin. Morton,” he nodded briefly at them both before sauntering out of the shop, Roxy and Eggsy staring after him in bewilderment. 

“Well that was unexpected,” Roxy said, biting her lip as though she was about to burst out laughing.

“Yeah,” Eggsy looked down into his mess of a drink, feeling a little bit less like the world owed him one, “wasn’t it just.”

~

Harry would normally have phoned or texted him beforehand, but he’d wanted it to be a surprise, and Eggsy would’ve instantly been suspicious if Harry said he was coming to see him at the yard but refused to give a reason. As such, he was working with the assumption that Eggsy would be somewhere about the place, and spent a good ten minutes wandering about trying to locate him, and getting a few funny looks from other people at the yard for his trouble. Inevitably, he was in the last place Harry happened to look. 

“Ah, there you are,” he said when he at last found Eggsy the tack room, humming away to himself as he worked vigorously over JB’s tack.

“Harry,” Eggsy looked up in surprise from where he was cleaning his saddle, fumbling the oily rag between his fingers. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Well, it’s nice to see you too,” Harry sniffed, feigning hurt.

“Aw mate, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Eggsy said, surprise abating and he smiled, bright and open, making something in Harry’s chest stutter. _Gorgeous boy._ “But we don’t have a lesson or nothin’, so why have you dragged yourself up here? If you wanted to see me that badly, we could have done something else where we don’t both smell like horse,” he winked, and _oh God save him_ it was getting too much.

“I have some news for you,” he skated smoothly over Eggsy’s last remark, unable to take his eyes off Eggsy’s hands as he twisted the rag impatiently between his fingers, “which I’m sure you’ll be contacted with by the proper authorities in due course, but someone on the board let me know in advance, and I couldn’t resist taking the chance to tell you myself.”

“Who’ve I pissed off now?” Eggsy said with a rueful smile, though he couldn’t quite hide the genuine flash of worry.

“It’s nothing like that,” Harry said quickly, wanting to smooth his apprehension away as fast as he could, “it’s something good, I promise you.”

“Yeah? What is it then?” Harry couldn’t say anything more for a moment, caught up in the enthusiasm humming through Eggsy’s body, his smile growing with every passing second. “C’mon Harry, fucking spit it out, yeah?” 

Harry found himself quite unable to deny him any longer, and cut to the chase. “You and JB have been selected to ride for Great Britain in the Showjumping at Rio 2016.” 

Eggsy blinked at him, mouth agape, pink lips parted in disbelief, and oh how he wanted to bite them. He forcibly dragged his mind out of the gutter, they were discussing Eggsy’s career for goodness sake. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No Eggsy,” he felt his lips flicker, “I am most assuredly not fucking with you.”

Slowly, the reality of what Harry had just told him sunk in, and Eggsy’s smile widened impossibly. “Fucking _yes_ Harry!” In a manner reminiscent of his win in Kentucky, Eggsy launched himself across the room and into Harry’s arms, a warm weight smelling of hay and leather and saddle soap. He wondered if it was becoming something of a habit. If so, it was one he thoroughly supported. Harry hugged him back without hesitation, full of pride and happiness on behalf of the boy, and tried to hold back the fleeting impulse of wanting anything more. Eggsy eventually pulled back a little, smile fading and hardening to determination as he looked Harry in the eye, and he was able to gauge the exact moment when Eggsy mentally said fuck it, and pulled Harry into a kiss. 

It was… well, Harry wasn’t about to stop and try to find the words for it, because there were far more important things for him to be focusing on. Namely, the slide of Eggsy’s soft lips against his own, a little chapped, tasting of mints no doubt originally intended for JB. They were closed-mouth kisses, pressed hard enough that Harry could feel his teeth behind his lips, sweet and desperate, as though Harry needed convincing. As if he would. He was delighted enough with Eggsy’s attentions that for a moment he did nothing but stand there and patiently enjoy them, that is until he felt Eggsy hesitate, shrink back a little as if in doubt, and he realised his lack of reaction might be misconstrued. Well, he couldn’t be having that.  
He slid one hand up to cup the back of Eggsy’s neck, drawing him in closer and banishing any worries that Harry might not be just as eager as he was. The other he let fall down to the small of Eggsy’s back, a subtle but impossible to ignore touch just shy of indecent, gently angling Eggsy’s hips up towards his own. He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue over Eggsy’s bottom lip before taking it between his teeth, making his intentions unmistakeably clear. Eggsy’s breath hitched and he groaned into the kiss at the sting Harry left on his lip, something he’d definitely be filing away for later use.  
As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, there was just one thing he needed to be certain of before he let things carry on. He prised Eggsy away as much as he could bear, the other man pouting at him in confusion, eyes dark. 

"Eggsy,” he licked his lips, watched Eggsy watch him, “I hate to ask, but - "

Eggsy rolled his eyes, shoved Harry back a little, impatiently, so they were both pressed against a saddle rack. "No Harry, I ain't doing this out of some like weird sense of gratitude or nothin', so don't even ask."

"Eggsy - "

"I'm not done. And it ain't to get in your good books and get ahead neither - "

"Eggsy, I think it's considerably too late for that," said Harry lightly. Even if Harry was inclined to use his own name to further Eggsy’s career, he held no sway over Olympic selections. 

"-you said it yourself, I'm good enough. I'm doin' this cos I want to and I reckon you do too, this ain't fuckin' school, Jesus. And it's gettin' real hard to focus on riding JB when all I can think about is riding you." Oh. Well then. Eggsy frowned up at him, face pinked and eyes hard, just daring him to disagree. Harry was almost tempted, just to see what he’d do. “I got enough of this shit from Charlie, I don’t need it from you neither.” 

“Of course not,” Harry brought a hand up to rest against Eggsy’s cheek, to smooth away his aggravation, “I’m well aware that neither of us has been subtle,” he pointedly raised an eyebrow and Eggsy snorted, all tension drained away, “I merely didn’t wish to presume.”

“As you said bruv, I think it’s a bit too late for that.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“What d’you want me to call you?”

“That, my dear boy, is a question that will keep until later, don’t you think?”

“Yes Harry,” Eggsy rolled his eyes, and leant up for another kiss. 

Harry let himself be pushed more firmly against the saddle rack, the wooden frame digging into his back and trying not to grin as Eggsy nipped and teased at his lips. Before long he grew impatient, his kisses harder and no longer teasing, insistent and single-minded. 

“I could fill a book with the things I’ve thought about your thighs,” Harry said, moving his hands around from where they cupped Eggsy’s arse to smooth firmly over said body part, hard with muscle under his close-fitting jodhpurs. 

“All good stuff, yeah?” Eggsy arched up into Harry’s touch, breath hot on Harry’s lips.

“Naturally,” Harry said, and dared to slide his hand further up, over the insistent bulge impossible to ignore in such tight clothing. Eggsy’s breath hitched, his body stuttering helplessly into the contact.

“Fuck it.” Before Harry could register what was happening, Eggsy tore himself away and scrambled down onto his knees, efficiently flicking open the fastenings and tugging down the zip of Harry’s jodhpurs, mouthing at him through his underwear. 

“Bloody buggering hell,” Harry’s head fell back at the first stroke of Eggsy’s hot tongue on his cock, the tiny part of his brain where rational thought still existed not believing that he was about to get sucked off in the tack room of sodding Chester King’s yard where anybody could wander in at any given moment. He hadn’t felt inclined to this sort of risky spontaneity for a good twenty years, but any doubts were swiftly laid to rest when Eggsy pulled him free of his underwear, the waistband digging tight into his thighs.

“Christ Harry,” Eggsy said, nosing at his cock, “where’ve you been hiding that?”

Thankfully the question was rhetorical, because Harry rather lost the ability to use words when Eggsy started to kiss around the base of his cock, pinning him against the saddle rack with hands at his hips, minute movements of his lips and tongue becoming less exploratory and more single-minded as he took Harry deeper into his mouth. One of Harry’s hands wound its way into Eggsy’s hair, part in affection, and in part to fulfil the tempting image of holding him closer, pulling him in. The fingertips of the other rested at Eggsy’s throat, stroking gently back and forth over the tender skin there as Eggsy bobbed and swallowed around him.  
Trying to keep back the thoroughly embarrassing moan that was threatening to fall from his lips, Harry was dimly aware of Eggsy sneaking a hand down to rub at himself while Harry’s cock was in his mouth, and oh good grief wasn’t that a thought. A thought that quickly grew and bled into many more, thoughts of the countless things he could do for Eggsy if he’d let him, now the beautiful boy was his. It was the thought of fucking between those gorgeous thighs that finally did him in, along with Eggsy’s rumbling whine around his cock and nails digging into his hip. 

When the world came back into focus, the first sight to meet him was Eggsy, pink-faced and dazed, on his knees and still swallowing, and Harry wished he could reach down far enough to nip at his throat. When he finally had enough presence of mind to think about returning the favour, Eggsy was already pulling himself to stand up, wincing slightly and shifting his weight, and Harry realised he’d already gotten himself off without even undoing his trousers. As wonderful as that particular notion may have been, Harry was very much looking forward to doing the honours himself, next time. They kissed, soft and unhurried, as Eggsy fumbled to get Harry back in his pants. 

“That was…” Harry started to say when Eggsy slumped against him, breath warm on his neck, only to find he had no idea how to finish the sentence. 

“Yep,” Eggsy huffed into his shoulder. 

“I haven’t done anything like that in longer than I care to admit,” Harry said, “you rather bring it out in me, I’m afraid.”

“Good,” Eggsy grinned, before squinting up at the ceiling. “Fucking lucky Chester didn’t put a security camera in here y’know.”

“Mm, I very much doubt he’d be as impressed with your talents as I am.”

“No change there then eh?” 

“I’m afraid Chester will never be able to see the best in you, Eggsy,” he said sincerely, running his fingers softly through Eggsy’s hair, “riding or otherwise.” It bothered him still that his old coach was so stuck in his ways that even after Eggsy’s trail of successful events, he viewed him as inferior. But Eggsy, it seemed, wasn’t quite ready to get back to talking shop.

“You might’ve seen me win a gold medal on horseback guv,” Eggsy smirked in response, hand sneaking back down to Harry’s arse, “but you sure as fuck ain’t seen me ride my best yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah. Thanks for sticking with this ridiculous fic.


End file.
